Seven Years
by electrakitty74
Summary: Collins is surviving. Can he learn to live? Six years postRENT
1. Two years and Counting

**Title: **Two Years and Counting  
**Author:** Sarah  
**Feedback:** Love it, please leave it. . .positive or negative  
**Pairing: **Implied Angel/Collins, but post-mortem  
**Word Count: **1361  
**Rating: **R, if only for language  
**Genre: **Angst/fluff  
**Summary: **  
**Notes: **

**Special Thanks: ** **scotsinkilts** for betaing and encouraging and giving me all kinds of ideas, and **shillaire** for being a hella-writer and inspiring me daily.  
**Spoilers: **Angel's dead. . . sorry  
**Warnings: **None.  
**Disclaimer: **Nope, still don't own

_I hate this job.  
I hate this city.  
I hate my life._

I miss her. 

It always came back to that, didn't it? He really didn't hate anything. Well, sometimes he did hate his job, but he never hated teaching. It was a complex set of emotions, he never could explain it to anyone, but he always dreaded class until he was in the midst of it. Teaching sucked until you were doing it. Once he started, it was like a high, less like the mellow high of the pot he'd always smoked and, he guessed, more like his friends had described cocaine or heroin. He'd never been into heavy stuff, he was far too much of a control freak. In any case, school was beginning again and he was grumpy and unprepared to face another year of the same over-privileged, under-educated whiners that he'd dealt with the year before. He had already sat through the mandatory meetings, which in his head he often entitled "What I Did on My Summer Vacation: Or, Why I'm a More Prestigious Scholar Than Any of You Losers." He remembered when he'd first come up with that title, almost three years ago in his first semester, he had made it up on the fly to make Angel giggle. He smiled, thinking of that day and looked at the photo on the desk, then at her red rhinestone ring he wore on his left hand.

Yeah, he missed her. Not a day went past when he didn't think of her. He sighed and looked at his watch.

_Ah dammit! Time for fucking class already. Fucking freshmen. _He groaned a little as he stood up. He packed up the few things he needed for class, kissed his finger and pressed it to Angel's picture, and headed down the hall, stopping just momentarily in the mail room to grab a cup of coffee.

Most of the class was assembled when he got there. He sighed. The usual suspects: a group of wanna-be goth kids, four girls and two boys, lined up in the back wearing black eyeliner and cookie-cutter outfits, probably bought from Future Shock.

_Ooooh look,_ he thought a little nastily, _they're individuals, just like everyone else._

In the front row were the requisite groupies, they weren't hard to spot, rarely did sorority girl types take cyberpunk classes. These three had clearly heard that he was new, young, and male and had enrolled in his class to get a look at him. He smiled at them and was amused to hear a group titter escape from that side of the room as he passed.

In the middle there were a few random kids, a scared-looking freshman, two studious-looking girls, and a boy who was already asleep.

_Great. Might as well get started. _

He called roll and discovered that there was only one kid missing: A Katie Johnston. That was pretty good for a first day.

It took him only a few minutes to get back into his teaching groove and fifteen minutes into the class, he even had the groupies involved. About halfway through the class, the door slammed open, surprising everyone, Collins included. They all turned toward the door to see a girl standing there dressed awkwardly wearing a men's western shirt with a scarf thrown around her neck like a feather boa, a short skirt, tights with cherries printed on them, and haphazard pigtails tied with yarn ribbons. She tiptoed into the room theatrically, finger to her lips, "sneaking" in anything but silently. The class laughed. Even Collins had to struggle with himself to keep from cracking up.

_You're the teacher, don't laugh, you're the teacher, don't laugh_

It was a battle he quickly lost, bursting into gales of spontaneous chuckles, the first since Angel had died.

Once the laughter had died down and Collins felt he could speak again, he looked directly at the girl who had seated herself in a desk on the opposite end of the front row from the groupies.

"Miss Johnston, I presume?"

"In the flesh," she announced.

"Miss Johnston, let's have a chat after class about the appropriate way to enter class." He was smiling, but serious. The other freshmen were properly chastened. Not so Katie. She grinned back at him.

"Ok, Professor Collins. Sorry. Carry on."

Katie was quiet and respectful for the rest of class. She even asked a couple of really good questions. Collins found himself really liking this kid.

When class was over, he dismissed the rest of the students and caught Katie to chat.

"I assume you know that was not an acceptable way to enter my class."

Her manner had changed.

"I know, Professor Collins, and I'm sorry. I was just . . . really excited about this class. I didn't want to miss it and I knew I was gonna be really late so. . .well I guess I acted badly. Sorry."

Throughout that semester, Collins found himself talking more and more often with Katie about all manner of things. He discovered that her eccentric clothing and quirky personality belied a deep intelligence in which he found a kindred spirit. She learned quickly and he was amazed that several times once a concept was introduced to her, she often gained a deeper understanding, even, than he had. Collins had yet to meet a brighter student. He grew to respect her more and more as the semester progressed.

One afternoon after class they got into a lengthy discussion and Collins motioned to Katie to follow him down the hall to his office.

"C'mon girl, walk and talk. I gotta meeting this afternoon. I gotta get ready."

Katie followed, debating with him the whole way down the hall. Once he'd opened the door for her, she flopped into the extra chair in his office, her leg up over the arm in a rather unladylike way.

"See, what I don't get is why people can't get past themselves enough to realize that not everyone has to be like them," she complained.

He shrugged "Not everyone can handle real diversity. Some people talk about 'diversity' and mean including black people, Latinos, or Asians, or God help us, Jews, but they don't understand it on a real level."

"Yeah. People are fuckin' stupid."

Collins laughed at the reduction of what was a fairly deep discussion to a very simple phrase, especially one with which he agreed so wholeheartedly.

He sat down in his chair to collate a stack of papers and managed to knock over the picture on his desk. Before he had a chance, Katie picked it up and looked closely at it.

"Speaking of diversity . . . who's this?"

It took Collins a moment to look up. When he did, he looked at the picture, not at Katie.

"That's Angel. She's . . . she died." He reached across and took the picture away from her. He looked at it reverently then set it out of Katie's reach.  
Katie stood and went to him, to touch his shoulder. She noticed that he was holding back tears. "I'm sorry," she said, not sure what she was apologizing for.

He nodded, biting his lip. "I have a meeting to prepare for," he said tersely. "I'll talk to you later Katie."

"Ok," she replied without her usual vibrancy. "See you on Tuesday."

It was always his fashion to hold an end-of-semester review before the exam. He knew his tests were hard and he wanted to make certain each student felt prepared, or if they didn't, at least it was their laziness and not his lack of effort that was to blame. At the end of the review for Katie's class, she raised her hand.

"Yes, Katie?"

"Professor Collins, can I have a hug?" She stood up and held her arms out to him.

Collins laughed, again, surprised into it. He held out his arms and she leapt into them, hugging him hard. She kissed his cheek, making him blush, then hopped to her seat, grabbed her stuff and skipped out the door.

"See you at the exam, Professor Collins!"


	2. Seven Years

Seven Years

Bright orange caught his eye as he fumbled with the key in the tricky lock on his office door. "Halloween Masquerade 2002!" the flier screamed. . .Six years he'd been here now. Six years. He never thought he'd be anywhere for six years. Hell, he hadn't figured he'd live another six years. He had found that there were two constants in academia; the years kept rolling by and the students kept getting younger. He had thought he had effectively quit when Angel had got sick, simply abandoning his classes and committee responsibilities. But the dean had been kind to him, calling his half-semester hiatus "bereavement leave," and bringing him back the following spring, even though he had never applied for leave. Angel. Her name, rarely even thought these days. She had settled into his brain as a series of images now. Some painful, some happy, all treasured. The only concrete evidence of her was the beat up red rhinestone ring he now wore on his left ring finger and the drumsticks and photos he keeps on his desk. Seven years he had been without her. The first few months had been the worst. He had been unable to come anywhere near his pain, so he had hidden from it, roaming the country, ignoring his friends and all his responsibilities. Finally, he had come back, back to the city which had been the site of his happiest days. Rarely did he regret coming back. Her face was everywhere, it was true, but he had found once he faced the pain that he couldn't live without it.

He was jerked rudely from his reverie when his office door slammed open. The culprit stood there grinning crookedly, her beautiful brown eyes flashing at him.

"Hi, Katie." Collins couldn't help smiling back at his favorite student.

"Hey Collins." Katie had dropped formality sometime in her sophomore year. "I've got something for you." She was holding a mess of wires with a flat black plastic box in the center.

"What is that?"

"It's a CD player. It still works, but my parents got me a new gadget for my birthday and I don't need it anymore." She pulled a similar white box out of her pocket and showed it to him. "It's an iPod, I can keep 4000 songs on it. It's digital."  
Collins shook his head, smiling at her, and added another constant of academia to his list: Students would never cease to amaze him. She waved the CD player impatiently at him to take.

He took the proffered box and wires and looked at it.

"What am I going to do with a CD player, Katie? I don't have any CDs."

"Ah, but I've made some for you." She dug in her messenger bag and pulled out a zipped CD case. "Some of my favorites are here. Seal, Dar Williams, David Bowie, Oooh, Norah Jones! You've got to listen to this one right away. It's brand new, you'll love it!"

"You're gonna wind up on the Dean's shit list if you don't stop being so nice to me. He's gonna think something's up between us." Collins' eyes twinkled. Katie grinned again.  
"I've been on Seamus' shit list since first semester freshman year. It's my personal goal to stay there." Collins laughed aloud at her silliness. He tried so hard to retain a professional distance from his students, but Katie was relentless. He had liked her since the first day she had burst into his class, wearing a short floral skirt and tights with cherries printed on them, her hair in sloppy pigtails tied with yarn ribbons. She had demanded a hug from him at their exam review, and he had been powerless to resist, though the rest of the class had laughed. He had laughed himself, to tell the truth, one of the first times he had been surprised into laughter since Angel had died. He would miss Katie when she graduated in the spring.

"Oh, and I've got another surprise for you. You've got a date tonight!"

"Katie, how many times have I told you, don't fix me up with random guys!"

"Kevin's not random, he's nice."

"No, Katie. I'm not dating right now."  
"You haven't dated anyone since I've known you."  
"And I won't." Katie scoffed, rolled her eyes, and sat on his desk.

"You're not dead, Collins. You're a young, good-looking guy. You need to get out there." She pointed to the ring on his left hand. "And don't wear that, he doesn't need to think you're married."

"I'm not taking it off, and I'm not going out with this guy, so you can just call him and tell him no."

"Don't get pissy, Collins. I'm just trying to do you a favor."

"Well, don't."

"You've been a widow. . .widower. . .whatever, for what, six years?"  
"Seven."

"And it's time to get out there again."  
"No, Katie. I'm not getting out there ever again." Collins voice softened when he saw Katie looking at Angel's picture.

"Was she that amazing?" She picked up the picture from his desk.

"Yeah, she was everything. We were everything."

"Wish I knew her." Collins smiled sadly.

"Me too. You'd have loved each other."

"Well, dude, I got class in ten. Sure you don't want to go out tonight?"

"Thanks Katie, no new guys for me."

"Suit yourself. He's hot."

"No, Katie."

"Oooook. . .Seeya Collins."

"'Bye Katie."

Walking home an hour or so later, Collins put the Norah Jones CD in the player and put on the headphones. He listened as he walked. Katie was right, it was really good. A little more syrupy than he generally liked, but her voice was beautiful. The first song ended as he crossed the small quad. Every time he walked across this grass, he thought of the time Angel had brought a picnic lunch for him the first week of classes after they'd met. Some of the kids had stared, some had snickered, but he didn't care. Angel had danced in the grass that day, happy as always. The second song on the CD began and he barely heard the introduction, lost in his thoughts. By the first chorus, he was listening intently and crying. Eyes clouded with tears, he found the repeat button on the player and started the song again. He barely noticed that he was on his knees in the grass.

_Spinning, laughing, dancing to  
her favorite song  
A little girl with nothing wrong  
Is all alone_

_Angel dances in the grass, ignoring the jeers of a few rude frat boys, trying to play Frisbee over her head. She spins and spins, around and around, 'til dizzy, she falls to the blanket next to Collins, laughing and clearing hair from her eyes. _

Eyes wide open  
Always hoping for the sun  
And she'll sing her song to anyone  
that comes along  


_Angel laughs on the beach in San Juan, dancing naked in the waves, singing and laughing, loving the sun and surf of her hometown. He stays back and watches her, too afraid of the sea to join her revelry. _

_  
Fragile as a leaf in autumn  
Just fallin' to the ground  
Without a sound  
_

_Angel lays in her hospital bed, makeup long gone, wearing only drab pajamas. She holds out her hands impatiently to Collins and he takes them. She says that when she's not touching him she's afraid she'll float away. He makes it a point to touch her whenever he can. _

_  
Crooked little smile on her face  
Tells a tale of grace  
That's all her own_

_Laying in bed with her, Collins is awakened when she speaks his name. He looks into her eyes and knows it's time. He whispers comfort to her, tells her it's ok to go, tears burning his eyes. Her body shifts and relaxes. She snuggles into his arms and exhales. He can still feel her heart beating, and he holds his breath, both hopeful and terrified that she won't inhale again. She doesn't, and within a few seconds, her heart stops beating. He pulls her close, completely numb for almost a minute, then the dam bursts and he rocks her, crying inconsolably. When finally he can look into her face, he sees that she's smiling. He smiles through his tears, and kisses her chapped lips. He holds her for almost another ten minutes, then finally gets up to push the call button._

Spinning, laughing, dancing to her favorite song  
She's a little girl with nothing wrong  
And she's all alone

_A little girl with nothing wrong_

_And she's all alone_

Still on his knees in the grass, Collins cries over his Angel, the few months they spent together reduced to only a handful of memories. Would he trade them? Only to be back with Angel again. The next song begins, and he listens carefully, still crying.

_I've tried so hard my dear to show  
That you're my every dream  
Yet you're afraid each thing I do  
Is just some evil scheme_

A memory from your lonesome past  
Keeps us so far apart  
Why can't I free your doubtful mind  
And melt your cold cold heart

Another love before my time  
Made your heart sad an' blue  
And so my heart is paying now  
For things I didn't do

In anger unkind words are said  
That make the teardrops start  
Why can't I free your doubtful mind  
And melt your cold cold heart

There was a time when I believed  
That you belonged to me  
But now I know your heart is shackled  
To a memory

The more I learn to care for you  
The more we drift apart  
Why can't I free your doubtful mind  
And melt your cold cold heart

His tears finally begin to dry and he is left with a few hiccupping sobs. Aware of the world around him again, he feels hands on his shoulders. A concerned face appears in front of him. He takes off the headphones and looks at Katie. Collins smiles a watery smile.

"You're right, this is a great disc." Katie smiles back uncertainly.

"I'm glad you like it. Are you ok?"

"I'm great."

"You want to stand up?" Collins nods, and Katie helps him up. "Want me to walk you home?"

"No, I'm fine now. I'll see you tomorrow." She gives him an uncertain look. "Go on, I'm fine. I'll be just fine."

"Ok man, see you tomorrow." With a look over her shoulder at Collins, Katie heads off in the direction of her apartment.

"Hey Katie!" Collins calls after her. She stops and turns back to him.

"Yeah?"

"Call your friend and tell him I will meet him tonight at seven at the Life." Katie smiles and gives him a thumbs-up.

"Will do, Professor!"


End file.
